Impasse
by Countryole
Summary: Annie has to decide just how much her life is worth. How far is she willing to to go to save the people she loves most? An AU taking place directly after 4x07 Crackity Jones.
1. Chapter 1

**_Present._**

_Cologne, Germany._

Teo Braga is many things. Estranged son of an equally and somewhat ironically estranged man. An individual with nonexistent boundaries on the moral compromises he is willing to make to achieve his goals. He is an emotional mute and commentator of the sarcastic, deadpan variety in private company. The shadow of a child who at one time had been happy, but now lies buried beneath the shell of a manufactured monster. Confident, cruel, calculated. Arthur Campbell's son is first and foremost a deceiver, a charismatic manipulator, a maverick against the grain of fate and chance and inevitable things like destiny. He is, in essence, the perfect spy.

The perfect weapon.

Yet for the first time in his life he finds himself at a loss, poised at the crossroads of a life he knew, and a life he has only ever dreamed of.

The beautiful woman standing at the edge of the Rhine is the reason his foresight seems to be lacking as of late. Her presence has done nothing but further complicate his already complicated existence. But despite his best efforts to evade her, it would seem some inevitable destinies were not so easily escaped after all. Blue eyes watch her intently, studying the way she leans against the rail above the river in the early morning light, the great bells of the cathedral echoing like a siren call of salvation through the cool fall air, ominous and heavy. Her dark hair, so different from her previous golden locks when he first met her, falls in soft curls across the slope of her shoulders, her lips moving furiously as she grips the generic cellphone in her hand and keeps it pressed against the flat of her cheek- knuckles white. She is flustered, agitated.

Of all the women who have walked in and out of Teo Braga's life, Annie Walker is the one that fascinates him most.

After several more seconds of frantic exchange, she returns the phone to the inner pocket of her trench coat and turns back toward him with a crestfallen look he cannot quite describe. It unsettles him though, and an indescribable heaviness festers in his chest, perhaps in the spot where his heart would sit. Her eyes have the same brief glint of viciousness as the split-second flash of the gun hidden at her hip. Then it disappears.

"You do realize you're staring, again, don't you?" She points out irritably as she brushes past him, close enough he can catch the distinctive smell of her perfume- citrus like, perhaps grapefruit of some sort. He has come to associate the scent with her presence. With a throaty chuckle and a crooked grin, Teo turns and follows Annie as she walks south along the riverside, always one step behind her.

"What's the plan?" Teo moves to her side, voicing his inquiry in all seriousness despite their customary banter. With shoulders brushing and hands shoved in pockets, he takes comfort in the odd rapport of familiarity her presence brings after weeks of living in one another's shadows. Something is wrong though, she is uneasy, on edge, her usual composure compromised by the anxiety that is uncomfortably obvious to him. The evidently negative change in atmosphere is enough to make his skin crawl. Instinct begins to rattle the puma's cage despite his best efforts ignore it; a reminder that there are only two options when danger threatens.

Flee or fight.

"There is no plan." The finality in Annie's voice is disturbing, defeated and different. Not expecting the ultimatum that came out of her mouth, Teo glances at her in surprise as they continue to walk, the church bells fading in the distance behind them. He waits for her to speak again, assuming she has more to say, but she seems preoccupied with something in the distance that he cannot see. Teo can only imagine what it must be like inside the labyrinth of her thoughts. He envisions the contents of her mind akin to something like a minefield made up of fractious emotions, warring with the compartmentalization protocols that the Central Intelligence Agency shoves down its agents' throats. Oddly enough he and Annie have more in common than either of them would care to admit, but at the end of the day it was her empathy, her passion for her loved ones, that would always be the thing to set her apart.

Teo learned to stop caring a long time ago.

Annie never would.

"There is no plan." He repeats her obscure and unenthused statement with even less gusto, as if reiteration can make him understand it any better, that heavy feeling in his chest growing tenfold.

"We're alone." Annie's voice is filled with nothing and everything at once; anger, despair, desperation. The edges of her fingers press against her temples in frustration and he watches her close her eyes and take a breath before she continues talking. "No one is coming. You know the saying 'we're out in the cold'? That's us, right now. Everything is falling apart. Calder can't help us, Joan can't help us, your father is in custody, Auggie is _still missing_ -"

"Annie-"

"The DPD has been turned upside down, Henry is _in_ bed with the entire CIA, and everyone is caught up in his propagandist bullshit, his lies, and they're buying it Teo. _They're_ _fucking buying it!"_

Annie stops without warning as her voice crescendos into near hysteria. Teo awkwardly dodges out of the way in an attempt not to run her over, cringing and cussing under his breath while he regains his balance, brow furrowed and a scowl in place. He is ready to talk her off her ledge, calm her down, but as he brings himself to speak the disheartened brown eyes looking back at him keep the words nailed to his tongue.

"It's never going to stop, is it?"

Annie is broken, forlorn and exhausted. She does not hide it from him, not after everything, the emotions raw and clear as day- crippling. For the first time since the beginning, in all the hours and days Teo has spent in her presence, the man spies the undeniable glimmer of doubt haunting the shadows of her face. In a matter of moments the woman whose resolve and determination were irrepressible falls prey to her worst fears. Her initial question still hangs heavily in the air, but he cannot find the heart to respond, remaining silent, tight lipped in trepidation as the gravity of the situation sinks in.

She already knows the answer.

"I have to find him, Teo. I'm running out of time."

The puma knows the look on her face all too well; a wild animal cornered with nowhere to run. He can see the gears turning in her head, grappling for a solution, desperate for a way out even though they are standing with their backs at the edge of an endless abyss with nothing left to do but fall. Past experience has taught him that moments like this are when logic and self-preservation give way to brazen, reckless and impulsive behavior. Fear and panic are powerful motivators, qualities often underestimated by those who choose to instill them in their victims. What they also forget is that when an animal is given no other option, when they are threatened and can no longer _flee_, well…

More often than not, they choose to fight.

_Even if it means losing._

* * *

_**A/N:**__ This is a season 4 alternate universe that deviates from the show directly after the episode better known as Crackity Jones. Even though it might not seem like it... yet. Hope y'all enjoy it!_


	2. Chapter 2

**_11 Weeks Earlier_**

_Washington D.C._

They have reached an _impasse_.

By dictionary definition these types of occurrences arise in extreme circumstances of duress. It is a situation in which no progress is possible, a way with no outlet in sight, a predicament affording no obvious escape. They exist now in a standstill built of stubborn wills and tormented hearts, struggling to stay afloat in the ocean of calamity their lives now perpetuate. Yet in spite of everything, _everything_, they were sinking.

August Anderson does not stop her.

So Annie Walker walks out his door.

Another piece of her soul catches fire with every step she takes down the hallway that seems to stretch endlessly in front of her. It is funny how just minutes before she could blink and have traveled its length. Her heart, heavy in her chest, beats in an erratic rhythm of despair as it drowns in depths of her contrived convictions. She has almost forgotten what it feels like to suffocate beneath the echo of her own sobbing, and the tears that stain her flushed cheeks sear and kiss like a wild fire, fueled by the fractured, fragmented pieces of her emotions.

During the elevator ride to the lobby Annie imagines that she is floating outside her own existence, somewhere far away where the invincible, immovable figment of a woman she once knew is watching from a safe distance. She does not know this broken, frail girl in front of her. She cannot understand the heartache and misery that burns in the wake of this distraught creature's apparent misery. She has never been anything but indestructible, invulnerable. A soldier armored against the atrocities of this world by her steadfast surety and the weakness of her heart shielded by the perspicacity of her hardheaded logic.

Not now.

Not ever again.

She waits for the cellphone in her pocket to ring. She waits for her feet to change direction and carry her back to the man she has left sitting in the darkness. She waits for her heart to stop racing, aching, and she can almost feel the old scars that run the length of her sternum reopen in the aftermath of this disaster, a bitter reminder of what it feels like for a heart to break. She waits just like she did in Auggie's doorway, suspended in air for a fleeting breath of seconds that felt like eternity, begging for his salvation, for the pain to pass, for him to _stop_ her, for things to be _different_.

Except things are not different, and this time Annie Walker will have to save herself.

Breaking the threshold of the building Annie grapples for car keys she cannot find, overwhelmed by the heightened sounds and frigid air of the D.C. evening. She stumbles on the stairs, an execution that is clumsy and uncharacteristic of her usual poise. She is hopelessly lost between the voice that tries to remind her to use her lungs to breathe, the words within her head that scream in desperation for her to turn around, and the slur of profanities that slip past clenched teeth and too chapped lips into the dreary twilight hour that envelops her. Finally locking herself inside her car, double parked and crooked, Annie's fists find themselves lashing out against the gray plastic of the dash again and again and again, until the rawness of her knuckles, grazed and fiery red, ache more than her shattered spirit.

Just when it feels like too much, when she finds herself standing at the edge…

_She closes her eyes._

The weight is lifted.

* * *

Joan has spent the better part of the night wandering in aimless, restless circles through the house. Arthur lies in a peaceful slumber in their bedroom and though his presence has somehow soothed her anxiety and put most of her immediate worries at bay, she remains awake in quiet and perplexed contemplation. She sits at the kitchen island, perched upon a barstool, spoon in hand as she unceremoniously eats out of the carton of ice cream she has dug out of the freezer. She doesn't even like rocky road, but _someone_ did. The irony is not lost on Joan that her unborn child is already calling the shots, and she has already lost any form of resolve or reason to deny it anything.

It still seems so surreal; to think that in a matter of months everything would change. This house, always so empty despite the lavish furniture and occasional dinner guests that filled it, would no longer lie in dormant silence. She imagines what it will be like to hear the baby crying, laughing – _living_. Would Arthur walk down the hallway in the middle of the night and curse in a hushed whisper as he stubbed his toes on toys? Would she spend endless hours singing lullabies and spinning stories of faraway places to innocent ears?

Would they be good parents?

_Would she be a good mother?_

Joan Campbell is known amongst her peers and colleagues as fierce and fearless. It is not lost on her that she now carries an additional weight, and in her opinion overrated prestige, as the first female director of the Department of Clandestine Services. Her file regales readers with wild tales of espionage, written proof that she is one of the finest field operatives that the agency has ever seen. Her list of accomplishments and coinciding credentials would take even the most adept analyst time to comb over properly. She has a rather infamous reputation due to her near flawless track record. Her tendency to be cold, cutthroat and cruelly calculative in her decision making and authoritative judgments are balanced by her incredible intuitiveness of others and the ability to extend empathy without question to those who deserve it. She is the personification of cool, calm and collected.

And now she can also add the title of unwavering, invulnerable, unshakeable DCS madam to her resume.

Yet despite all this, the idea of motherhood absolutely _terrifies_ her.

Her phone rings, distracting the anxious mother-to-be from the petrifying thoughts of parenting that run wild in her head. Joan frowns, glancing at the clock as she stands and waltzes in a slow staccato fashion to her living room. She retrieves her cell phone from the coffee table, knowing only a handful of people would be brave enough to call her at three in the morning. From down the hall Arthur's snoring borders on obnoxious, but the all too familiar annoyance is the least of Joan's worries. The golden strands of her hair fall in disarray across her shoulders as she peers with pensive concentration at the phone in her hands. Joan's blue eyes narrow in distress at the caller ID and she lets loose a breath she didn't realize she was holding, mind racing, lungs screaming, and heart sinking.

She answers immediately.

"What's wrong, Annie?"

_"Joan… Do you remember when you said I had your support on whatever I need? Is that still true?"_

"Of course, without reservation."

_"Well, now I need it."_

* * *

The pieces are falling into perfect place.

Henry Wilcox stands poised on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in the fading evening light, enjoying the view of the water as it lie still beneath the silhouette of a setting sun, the last bleak rays bleeding out over the glass like surface. The ice blue of his eyes, glinting and hardened, stand out in stark contrast against the charcoal gray of his suit and the lady bug red of his tie. The events of the past week play back through his head in carefully cataloged slow motion. Originally the grave miscalculation of Annie Walker's allegiances and his ability to sway her frustrated him beyond explanation. He always feared what losing control over this sometimes viciously unpredictable individual would cost him this far into the game, with so much at stake.

However, despite Ms. Walker's noble intentions to extradite herself from the very tangled web he has woven, it appears her life is still on its way to slowly unraveling itself thread by thread. Her relentless pursuit of him is beginning to bleed into the other facets of her existence in ways she has yet to notice or even imagine.

Even in the most arduous of situations, he has found that patience always manages to turn the tides in his favor.

Her sickeningly cliché perception of justice and righteousness is laughable, no doubt instilled in her by her predecessors. Joan and Arthur always were weak minded in that way, taking too much stock in the frivolity of integrity. Annie was foolish and naive to think she could save herself from being tainted, from drowning in the flood waters he has cut loose. There would be no washing the blood from her hands, no turning back or second chances. The moment she chose to align herself with the opposing side she effectively jumped back into the spreading fire, but this time there would be no one to pull her out, and Henry would be there to sit back and watch her burn alive in the storm of her own inequity. The first flames have already risen from the ashes of Annie's smoldering hatred for him, fueled by the timeless doctrine of so many pathetic protagonist; honorable vengeance.

Annie Walker champions her cause by glorifying her quest for the truth, fighting for escape from her demons in the vapid idea that complete veracity would set her free, but what the young woman does not realize is that her unwavering abhorrence, her unabashed loathing that drives her to hunt him, is the very thing that will chain her to him forever.

Eventually it will start to destroy her.

And before it is over Henry Wilcox will destroy them all.

* * *

_Medellín, Colombia_

Colombia is a beautiful place.

The city of Medellín is no exception. It sprawls across the infamous Aburra Valley, reaching up the hillsides of the northern most edge of the Andes mountain range. It is cut through the heart by the river after which it is so aptly named. Downtown strolls will privy the wandering stranger to the exotic sights and sounds of a different world with a culture and history as rich as the corporations that now compose its financial foundation. Bright colors and beautiful music can be overwhelming to the senses, and unsurprisingly so. It is a modern day dynasty nestled amongst the remnants of a blood stained and war strewn jungle injudiciously forgotten with the passage of time.

But just like anything else, the past finds ways to resurface when least expected.

Unfortunately history always repeats itself.

The metro cable is accessible throughout various parts of the city's outer edge and gives individuals the opportunity to experience the simplicity of the small towns outside the city center. It carries travelers up, up, up the mountainside and into the wilderness beyond the walls of a metropolis that nearly three million souls call home. In the dead of the night the city burns like a fire across an endless expanse of black, a constellation of incandescent and radiant lights scattered over the darkness of the valley, a rather breathtaking sight. Knowing that Medellín is one of the fastest growing cities in the world for trade and commerce, and the second largest city in Colombia, it is not hard to see why the most embellished and successful entrepreneurs and businessmen of the decade are drawn to it.

Yet for all its glory, it's exquisite and championed splendor, it remains one of the most dangerous too.

While the city slumbers, blissfully ignorant, the puma stalks through the shadows, waiting, watching.

_Hungry_.

* * *

_**A/N: Willynilly23 sometimes doubts my alliance to Walkerson, I think. I promise it's coming. ;)**__  
_


	3. Chapter 3

**_10 Weeks Earlier._**

_Washington D.C._

Langley is in an uproar.

Clearances have been revoked, computers and accompanying files confiscated, polygraphs scheduled as if lives depended on it and suspensions handed out like dime a dozen detention slips from grade school. Amidst the chaos of fingers being pointed and vultures circling for any hopes of snapping up some lost tidbit of information that got over looked in the melee, August Anderson remains a stoic, unmoving monument of solidarity and unaffected calm. At least in all outward appearances.

In reality the head of the Domestic Protection Division's tech operations is on the verge of internal spontaneous combustion. So far no one is talking about what prompted the sudden shutdown of operations, but given the events of the past few weeks it would not surprise Auggie if Henry Wilcox has something to do with it. His main concern is Annie. She left his apartment Friday night; it is now Monday morning and despite various attempts to call her she has still refused to answer her phone. Their conversation plays back in his head over and over again. He remembers the instantaneous feeling of being hollow and empty when she stood up from the couch, the rustle of her feet shuffling across the wood of his floor, the sound of sobbing that she had tried to hide, and how he had sat there, unmoving, and let her walk away without even trying to stop her.

_You are a grade A asshole, Anderson._

He regretted every ambiguous defense and vague excuse he had force fed her before she left for Lyon and after she returned. It was remarkable how two people who knew each other so well could turn into complete strangers within a matter of moments. Close enough to touch and somehow still a million miles apart. Auggie has never been good with actual feelings. He is more accustomed to playing roles: go to guy for advice; the endearing best friend; the suave, blind jazz enthusiast with an irresistible sense of self-depreciating humor. But when it comes to love his track record reveals a series of brash decisions that have sent him head first into kamikaze heartache after heartache. Perhaps it is his blind optimism – pun not intended – that has kept him from learning that playing with fire always gets you burnt. So what was different this time? What kept him frozen, speechless, when he should have chased after Annie that night and begged her not to go? Did he think that by giving her up he would save himself the pain of actually losing her?

As if reverse psychology could be applied to such a complicated, emotionally intricate thing like love.

Auggie sits at his desk while the commotion of discord and disgruntled coworkers float around him, a melee of papers being shuffled, machines whirring and hushed conversations. The disarray inside the Domestic Protection Division is nothing compared to the frenzy inside his own head. His fingers trace the glass edge methodically as he waits, stuck in an indeterminate state of dread, the proverbial calm before the storm. It is only a matter of time before Calder comes barging in demanding answers, pulling rank and axing their clearance levels, Auggie just hopes that Annie will get here first. He can think of a million things he needs to talk to her about, apologize for, but first they needed to figure out what was going on.

His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of heels against tile, causing his heart to race for just a moment before he realizes they do not belong to the woman he is waiting on.

"Joan." He smiles and spins around in his chair. "What's up?"

"Auggie." Joan's hand comes to rest on his shoulder, squeezing it slightly. He frowns at the shortness with which she speaks and the unusual urgency of her tone, the normal warmth that generally accompanies her voice unnervingly absent. "We might not have much time- Calder is in polygraph observing, but I can't say for how long. Come with me."

The haste in her voice sends Auggie's stomach into knotted coils. Joan Campbell is one of the few individuals he keeps on a pedestal above the rest of humanity, for multiple reasons, but especially because she has always fought for him when no one else would. His trust in her is unwavering and irrevocable, so without missing a beat he follows her instructions, no hint of reservation or question as to what or why. He turns back towards his desk for his laser cane, but Joan quickly leans over to still his hand with hers. "We're leaving." she says quietly. Auggie's disquiet increases but he says nothing – merely nods his head in acknowledgment and open his desk draw, exchanging his laser for the furled regular cane he keeps there while at work. When he straightens up, cane folded in hand, Joan is already at his side, brushing the back of his hand with hers, in her very characteristic way, so that he can find her elbow.

"Where _is_ Annie?" It is the first question to leave his mouth as they move out of his office, the route they take alerting him that they are headed through the squad room and back toward the lobby and elevators. Since their upcoming elevator ride will not be taking them back to the seventh floor, Auggie assumes two things; that they have a limited window of opportunity and Joan does not feel they are safe from scrutiny within the walls of her own division. Something has to have happened to give her reason for suspicion. "I take it this is not a normal department investigation. Do we know what's going on?"

"She is safe, but we have to talk somewhere else." Joan's statement is cryptic and makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

_What did she mean by "safe"? Why would Annie be in danger in the first place?_

Sensing his distress Joan attempts to reassure him by reaching for his hand on her arm and giving it a quick, fleeting touch meant to comfort and soothe. It does neither. Auggie has to fight the bile rising in his throat, the panic edging into his consciousness as he begins to reanalyze the events of the past few days in a painfully dawning haze of realization. Missed phone calls, not showing up to work… put together with the uproar at Langley these events are starting to tell a very different story. One he, in his self-absorption, hasn't even stopped to consider.

Annie might be safe, but she is not here.

The tell-tale ring of the elevator arriving and the swoosh of doors sliding open immediately hurl Auggie back to the earth from where his racing thoughts were suspended in outer space. Joan pulls him inside and as they turn around he can feel the distinct change in the surrounding gravity as she leans forward. He does not miss the sound of Joan's fingers as they press not one, but two buttons on the control panel. The first one was probably for the main floor, the second to close the doors before any unwanted company decides to join them.

When they are finally alone she releases a sigh that makes Auggie wonder if she has been holding her breath all this time. Joan's typical aura of calm is noticeably disrupted by a pensiveness that only serves to make Auggie more anxious, and he speculates if the apprehensive energy she radiates is as visible on her face as it feels simply from being in her presence.

"Joan?" A five floor elevator ride inside Langley is hardly enough time to explain any pertinent information, or the place, but Auggie cannot stop himself from asking.

Her response comes at him from left field. "Auggie, can you tell me if there is _any_ chance we can have Project Hummingbird up and running in the next 24 hours?"

He mentally shakes his head at the unexpectedness of her question, but the answer is already there: "I have no idea where this is coming from or why- but do you really have to ask?" Despite the urgency of the current situation and his underlying anxiety, he feels his mouth tilting into his trademark insouciant half-smile – a gesture used for so long now it has become a reflex.

Joan laughs- the most comforting sound Auggie has heard since entering the building that morning. The elevator slides to its methodical hydraulic stop and together they leave the suffocating confines of the claustrophobic metal box. Without so much as a pause Joan steers them both toward the lobby, the doors, and out into the refreshingly cool, crisp air of a D.C. autumn.

"Good." Joan's murmur is an afterthought issued once they are alone, not quite loud enough for the average set of ears to hear in case of any eavesdropping passer byers, but just right for August Anderson. "We have someone to find."

* * *

_Medellín, Colombia_

When someone has not slept in over twenty four hours, you would think the simple task of falling asleep would be easy enough to accomplish. Yet for some reason, Annie finds herself staring bleakly up at the ceiling of her hotel room, counting the cracks in the paint peeling around the antique looking light fixture that probably belongs in a museum. Despite the midnight hour, some other restless kindred spirit walks around in the room above her, and outside the distant sound of thunder rolls threateningly over the rooftops of the city. The days are still warm here in Colombia, but the nights remain rather cool. It is almost funny that the weather reflects her already gloomy mood. With a weary sigh Annie pulls the questionable looking hotel blanket tighter around herself and does her best to ignore the chill seeping into her bones.

She glances at the cellphone lying in wait on the bedside table. Her old phone is swimming somewhere in the city's namesake, keeping the local fish population company. This new burner phone is most likely the first victim in a long line of martyrs sacrificed for the cause. She sits up for a moment and grabs it off the table, settling back into the bed with the phone clasped in her hands over her chest as if she were holding some silent vigil, her eyes once again finding the lines of peeling paint.

Annie waits, impatiently. Seedy hotel rooms in the middle of a foreign country do little for her sometimes over reactive imagination- little good, that is. The things she occasionally sees in her mind are just as bad, if not worse, as staring at the empty shadows currently keeping her company. She is reminded with no fondness of Russian prisons, the horrible wailing of an endless siren, steamer trunk keys and other things she would rather forget. Despite this she makes a valiant attempt at closing her eyes one more time as she relays the blurred images of the past twelve hours like a bad film reel through her head.

After speaking to Joan over the phone the night she had left Auggie's apartment, she arrived at the Campbell residence at the unceremonious hour of three in the morning, but not before spending adequate time doubling back and triple checking her routes to make sure she was not being followed. The unlikely trio had gathered in the living room; Annie tear stained and still in the same clothes she had been in when she got off the airplane from Lyon, Joan wide awake and in sweats and a well-worn Penn State t-shirt, Arthur red eyed but alert, and in boxers that made Annie question his tastes in nightwear. Jet lagged and badly in need of a shower, she recounted with little enthusiasm what happened in France; Henry Wilcox's unexpected appearance, the struggle with the now dead, illegal-arms-running Interpol agent at the docks, and the ensuing realization that the missing missiles were still missing.

Annie conveniently left out the details about her and Helen's heart to hearts. Regardless of the fact that what the woman said might have held small, minute grains of truth (or none at all), it held little relevance to their current problem. She still wishes she could take bleach and scrub the entire recollection of their slightly hostile conversations from her subconscious, more specifically Helen's intrusive attempt at relationship counseling and the ensuing conversation with Auggie.

Despite the fact that it would have been incredibly easy to wallow in her own misery and break under the pressure of the past weeks emotional exhaustion, Annie Walker was not the type to call a friend in the dead of the night for a shoulder to cry on. After leaving Auggie's apartment she had come to the conclusion that unless they started playing the offensive, fighting fire with fire, Henry Wilcox would continue to drag them into his twisted game of lies and deception until he burned all of them. Annie refused to continue sitting idly on the sidelines, trying to predict and evade his attacks and keep her hands clean at the same time. So far it had served to do nothing but hurt the people she cared about. Enough was enough; she wanted to destroy the root of the problem at its source. Given the incident in Lyon, Henry's connections to the ALC, and the incriminating photo of said bastard with an ALC terrorist now in their possession, she had asked Joan for only two things.

A plane ticket to Colombia and extended vacation time.

Her logic at the time was simple and flaw proof. There was a small chance that she could get to the ALC member in the photograph from the flash drive, and a greater chance that he was still somewhere in Colombia. And if she could get to that man, if she could bring him in, they might finally have enough evidence to bring all of Henry Wilcox sins to light.

But first she has to find Teo Braga.

Annie knows better than anyone that it is a fool's errand, much easier said than done, but time is of the essence and she is nothing if not proficient at her job. Arthur's son is her fastest way inside the ALC network, so if she can convince him to help her put a name to the face in the picture, and possibly arrange an introduction, the hard part will be over. Under any other circumstances she would have looked at this situation and deemed it a suicide mission. More simply put, if Teo Braga does not want to be found, then no one is going to find him. But it just so happens that the status quo has shifted in their favor.

Project Hummingbird is one of the CIA's most advanced tracking and surveillance programs to ever be imagined, and thanks to August Anderson it is transitioning from mere fantasy into reality.

Annie clutches the phone a little tighter. She imagines the diligent, dedicated concentration with which he would be sitting in his apartment, suspended over his computers, head phones in place, much like he had been during the time of the FBI's investigation into Seth Newman's death. Her poorly constructed walls of bitterness and resentment are no match for the ghosts of yesterday that wreak havoc on what little resolve she might have had left. Memories of Auggie, of the both of them, begin to invade her thoughts in an almost unbearable way that can only be described as heartache. She can still remember in vivid detail the night this entire mess started, how he showed up at her doorstep in his characteristic unexpected fashion. With ease she can recall dancing with him in the park in Medellín, so eerily similar to a dream she has had before that it still haunts her to this day. The feel of his hands on her face that day in his apartment, warm and familiar and so indescribably _right_, when he swore to her that he never wanted to lose her.

_Had he?_

The phone rings – causing her to jump - and the image conjured by reminiscing is shattered.

With a deep breath Annie answers the phone. "Hello?"

_"Annie? It's Joan. We found him."_

"Auggie _did _it?"

_"Auggie did it"._ Annie can hear the pride creeping into Joan's voice – exemplified by the undeniable warmth that often underlies her words when there is mention of Auggie. She feels a responding swell in her own chest, but she tamps it down. Strictly business.

"What's the location?

_"He is sending it to you now along with some additional ALC dossiers; the laptop I gave you has an encrypted email system set up. But Annie, you should know that there is a new complication."_

"Complication?" Annie frowns at the foreboding of Joan's statement and her grip on the phone tightens slightly. "I didn't think it could get any more complicated."

_"Unfortunately it did. The DPD was put under investigation today, and I just got word from the DCI as to why. This doesn't bode well for any of us, but especially you at this point: Calder has obtained video footage of you and Teo in Vienna."_

"Oh." Annie's heart to sinks, dread descending with it. "That's not good."

_"No. It's not good. Annie… they are threatening to charge you with treason."_

* * *

**_A/N: _**_-_


	4. Chapter 4

**_10 Weeks Earlier_**

_Washington D.C._

The truth is that Auggie could have had Hummingbird operational weeks ago. However, giving Calder Michaels the satisfaction of following through on the busy work he had assigned him was not on Auggie's list of to-dos over the course of the past few weeks. But now they need Hummingbird. Annie needs it, and in the spirit of needing technological miracles to occur in short spans of time, she also needs him. So, never having been in the business of denying her, Auggie makes it happen.

It doesn't take him long to find Teo Braga. In the confines of his apartment later that evening after Joan approached him, jazz music playing over the turntable in the background, hot coffee and his laptop in front of him, Auggie hunts down a man who is thousands of miles away within a matter of hours - a feet that likely would have taken even the best head hunter days, if they could have done it at all. Teo is no stranger to disappearing, and after destroying the untraceable cell phone Auggie had special made in Vienna, Arthur Campbell's son had fallen off of the face of the earth - _again_. Auggie can't help but wonder, ruefully, if he taught Teo the art of vanishing a little _too_ well. The memories of that time, that life, linger like unwanted reminders at the back of his thoughts. He pushes them away and focuses on the present.

This time Teo doesn't stay hidden though, thanks to the little bird currently running through every security interface in Colombia. Teo's trail leads Auggie to secluded barrio nestled in the foothills of the Antioquia mountain on the outskirts of Medellín, most likely another ALC stronghold where the fabled puma has conveniently barricaded himself. Auggie contemplates briefly if the same face the facial recognition software finds after scanning through endless video footage, is the same face he tries to conjure of the man he used to know before. Or would Teo's eyes be just as dead as his voice had sounded that day in the city?

He'll probably never know.

After Auggie confirms the coordinates of the location, he sends an email to Joan via the encrypted email address she had him set up. He tries not to think too much about the fact that she has already thought far enough in advance to consider going to such extremes of secrecy.

15 minutes later, his phone rings.

"Joan?"

_"Auggie - great work. I need you to forward the coordinates to Annie, along with those ALC dossiers I fast tracked to you." _

"Already done."

_"Perfect. Listen, the situation is evolving, and in a less than ideal way."_

"Evolving how?"

_"Calder found video footage of Annie and Teo in Vienna, Auggie. He brought it to the DCI, that's why the investigation started today. Tomorrow there will be a line out Langley's doors for polygraphs, and I have no doubt you and I are at the top of the list. When they realize Annie isn't just on vacation…"_

"Shit." Auggie reclines against the couch, running his free hand over his face, the reality of the situation sinking in.

_"More or less. Really that's the least of our worries. It's rumor of accusations using words like 'treason' and 'rogue operative' that have me concerned."_

He frowns, realization further adding to the lead weight of anxiety attempting to weigh him down. "Wait - they're accusing _Annie_?" Auggie stands, a surge of indignation and outrage racing through his veins and subsequently driving him to his feet. "Calder has no real proof, Joan! A video doesn't tell the whole story, if he knew -"

_ "But he doesn't know, Auggie, and we don't even know if we can trust him. The only certainty is that five missiles are in the wind, and Annie Walker was the last person seen with the arms dealer and the buyer. An arms dealer who's blood is on her hands at her own admittance."_

Auggie has no argument for Joan, because he knows she's right, and he sits in defeated silence, the gears turning in his head, desperately trying to come up with an escape, an out. But there are none.

"Does Annie know?" He finally asks her.

_"I just spoke with her, she's aware of the risks."_

"The risks? Joan, this is more than just risk, this is her career, her _life_."

_"It's all of us, Auggie."_

He falls silent again, jaw locked, thoughts racing. Joan doesn't say anything else, knowing that there's nothing left to say, knowing it won't do any good. Auggie steels himself- decided.

"I have to go back to Medellín." It's a statement, not a question.

This time Joan is the one who hesitates.

_"No, I can't let you do that."_

Auggie fumes, furious.

"Joan, I'm not going to let Annie hang out on her own on this -"

_"I can't let you, Auggie. I can't let you, because tomorrow you'll show up to the DPD. If Calder asks you to take a polygraph you'll take it. You'll take it, and you'll pass. And then-"_

"Then _what_?"

_"Then I will let you go back to Medellín."_

* * *

Calder Michaels misses the lawless streets of Colombia more and more everyday.

The endlessly twisted, obscure political agendas and conversations behind closed doors here at Langley make the war stained, drug violence riddled country seem like a getaway vacation in comparison. Calder is a spy: he could do dangerous beyond reason, he could do high risk, high profile missions with no guarantee of success. But his patience is being tested when it comes to wheeling and dealing with the various talking heads at the forefront of the agency's departments. He is beginning to think the title of 'Director' is severely overrated, as well as the interagency power struggle that comes with it, and that perhaps politics really aren't so much his style.

Regardless, his work ethic has never been anything but flawless, so he does his job, and he does it well.

Annie Walker caught his attention the day she stepped off the airplane in Cordoba, just like he had told her. And, perhaps unfortunately for Annie, she has kept his attention ever since Calder stepped foot in the Domestic Protection Division at Langley.

He doesn't trust her or Auggie Anderson, and they've given him no reason to. They blatantly ignore orders, go over his head during mission operations, and lie about pertinent mission intelligence - all for _what_? Calder finds it more disturbing still that Annie Walker clearly doesn't trust him either, an unsettling quandary to have between two people who supposedly work for the same country. And then there is Joan Campbell, iron fisted Director of Clandestine Services, who sees fit to keep Calder in the dark at every possible opportunity, content to sweep the alarmingly growing amount of Walker and Anderson's discrepancies under the rug.

Obviously _something_ is worth hiding.

So, despite Joan Campbell's warning, Calder starts digging.

And that's when he finds the video.

There's no sound to hear a conversation, no indicator as to why or how the meeting occurred, but it's right in front of him - clear as day.

Teo Braga and Annie Walker, a wanted ALC terrorist and one of the CIA's most decorated clandestine agents - together. Together the same day Annie allegedly shot arms dealer Dion Stavros (a potentially vital CIA asset) in what she claimed was self-defense, during the missile exchange gone awry in Vienna.

So, like any self respecting director with a potential leak in their department, Calder takes matters into his own hands. Instead of being cutdown and roadblocked by Joan Campbell on the seventh floor, he skates clear over the top of her head, and brings his findings to the Director of Central Intelligence himself. His justification being that national security is more important than Joan Campbell's tendency to somehow overlook every suspicious move her agents make.

He might as well have opened pandoras box.

With the discovery, Langley becomes pandemonium personified. Having been the one to stumble upon this unexpected easter egg of intel, Calder is given the task of orchestrating the not so simple process of house cleaning. Polygraphs, debriefings for involved personnel, and then debriefings of the debriefings. Clearance levels are lowered, raised, or revoked entirely. Calder thinks he'll snap if he has to deal with one more rookie analysts crying because they think they're in trouble for the illegal Game Of Thrones downloads they've made on the agency's wifi. He also has to restrain himself from choking the next senior field agent who scowls and acts as irritable as possible when asked the most simple of baseline questions.

It's a witch hunt, trying to find out if any vital intelligence has been compromised, where the leak started (if there is a leak), and whether or not Annie Walker is as guilty as she looks. And if she is…

It certainly isn't helping her case that Annie is no where to be found, but given her past behavior Calder can't say he's surprised. The DCI isn't forcing his hand - yet. Until he has to, Calder won't label Annie Walker a traitor. Hard ass he may be, but he's not heartless, and he's also smart enough to know that not everything is as it seems in this place.

"Director Michaels?"

Calder glances up from the pile of paper work on his desk that he's dove into between polygraph sessions. It's yet another thing he adds to the steadily growing list of things he misses about field work, or in this case, the lack there of. His secretary hovers at the door to his office, flighty, and he peers at her expectantly.

"They're ready for you with Agent Anderson in Polygraph, sir."

"Great, thank you Stephanie."

She nods and exits.

As he makes his way through the DPD Calder doesn't miss Joan's cutting glare from across the room where she is in discussion with two techs, Barber and Hollman. Calder pauses - smiles and meets her eyes briefly, though it's only halfway sincere. She doesn't take his proffered peace offering, nor does she return the gesture, but there's no mistaking the steely glint of distaste that belies her otherwise pleasant outward demeanor.

Continuing on his way, Calder navigates through the tangled labyrinth of Langley's hallways to polygraph. When he arrives, he stands center behind the two-way mirror in the viewing room and watches August Anderson as he lounges in his seat with a none-to-thrilled expression on his face.

The polygraph examiner seems disinterested - he wastes no time in getting started.

"We'll start with a series of questions to establish a baseline, you may answer with yes or no only. Is your name August Anderson?"

Despite the fact that Auggie is blind, Calder imagines that the man meets his gaze from the other side of the mirror - defiant.

"Yes, but my friends call me Auggie."

* * *

**A/N: **_I really love Calder as a character, he's so fun. Also, Protective!Auggie is the best. Thanks for the reviews guys - hugs!_


	5. Chapter 5

**_10 Weeks Earlier_**

_Medellín, Colombia._

With the hindering developments at Langley, Joan tells Annie to lie low for another 24 hours before they make their move.

Keeping herself entertained in the small confines of her room, knowing that Joan and Auggie are going to bat on her behalf back in the states, is enough to drive her insane. Guilt is a shadow that follows her as she paces from wall to wall when she can no longer force herself to stare at the thousands of lines of black text inside the ALC dossier files on her computer screen. It never should have went this far, and she knows it. She never should have agreed to meet Henry at Vesta, she never should have opened that file, she never should have come to Colombia - now they're all being forced to pay the price, and as hard as she is trying, she can't seem to stop it.

Her resentment of Henry, of everything he's done, the lives he's destroyed, only strengthens her resolve to end him. Rallying, Annie turns her attention to the ALC dossiers once more, sitting cross legged on the bed, scanning each document carefully, determined to find something that can help her.

The 90s saw Colombia ravaged by gang violence and drug wars, something in which the ALC played a paramount part. A wealth of that history is now at Annie's finger tips, compromised of every documented file the CIA could possibly have access too, and even ones they shouldn't. Full profiles on key members. Recounts of political uprisings. Criminal activities, attacks, murders and bombings, along with pictures of the carnage float past her eyes in wave after wave. Annie tries to look past the names and faces of the innocent victims, but even then she has to pause and close her eyes before she continues to scroll to the next page.

There is one report in particular that catches her attention - the bombing of _Plaza de Turbaco_. She goes through it, and after studying the names that aren't redacted, she realizes why. Her heart sinks.

It's the bombing that killed Teo's mother.

Anna Sofia was one of dozens lost in the explosion when illegally procured C4 leveled Turbaco Plaza and injured countless others. Annie lingers on the details of this bombing longer than she has the others. She thinks back to her conversation with Arthur and Joan, weeks ago now, in the parking garage before she left for Medellín the second time. Arthur tried to give Teo closure by helping him avenge his mother's senseless death, but Annie wonders if that was just the beginning of the chaos.

Teo Braga is still as much of a mystery to her as he was the day they met. She remembers, with unnerving clarity, the way Auggie had spoke of him. How the man he used to know - the one that had been vibrant, _alive -_ was dead in comparison to the one that had dug the bullet out of his shoulder. And yet Annie has seen Teo make selfless acts to help others, herself included, when it would have been just as easy to turn and look the other way. It's because of that (a barely noticeable glimmer of his humanity) that Annie suspects her initial assumption has been right all along: that Teo is an operative so lost in his cover that he doesn't remember how to come home.

She can't help but wonder, when this is over, if she'll have forgotten as well.

Annie shuts the laptop and sits back, hands on her thighs. She takes a breath, and tries to steady herself.

One person can only deceive the world for so long until the truth becomes a lie.

* * *

The next morning she sneaks down from her room to the street. Despite Joan's advisement that she stay relatively out of sight, she justifies the excursion because she's depleted her ration of granola bars, and she can't remember the last time she's had a decent meal. The food stands smell heavenly, and with what pesos she has she buys herself a cup of coffee from one street vendor and a generous portion of salpicón from another.

She takes a seat on a bench just outside the hostel, people watching and digging unceremoniously into her Colombian fruit salad. The coffee makes her feel somewhat human again, and while she sips it between bites of food she continues to consider her approach to Teo. It's something she's been doing ever since Joan had told her they'd found him. She recalls the last time she saw him, in Vienna, when he'd shot Dion Stavros and then fled before she could confront him in her haste to search the apartment. It was also where he destroyed the cell phone she had given him, the piece of technology lying in pieces on the floor when she'd found it. It had been a clear message, one that is echoed now by her current predicament.

Teo doesn't want to be found.

This time there were no protocols to follow, no easy ways to get close to him. She takes another sip of her coffee, willing the caffeine to make the gears in her head work faster and formulate a plan. Her window of opportunity at this point is uncertain, and with the latest complication it's only a matter of time before the CIA comes looking for her, threats of treason and guns blazing. Joan has taken the precarious position of defending Annie despite the consequences she could face because of it, but even her reach as director of the DCS only extends so far. Annie assumes at this point both Joan and Auggie will fall under suspicion for aiding her if they haven't already, and if that happens... Then she really will be on her own.

She sets the now empty cup of coffee down, and finishes off the salpicón before throwing both empty containers away in the trash barrel at the end of the bench. Next she starts digging through the messenger bag draped across her shoulder. She debates, and then hesitantly fishes out the burner phone from inside. She let's it rest in the palm of her hand, but she doesn't dial any numbers.

This is when she would've called Auggie, when the line between risk-reward and danger became too blurred for her to navigate it safely and force her to start doubting her own judgement. Ever since the beginning he's been the voice of reason that's always in her ear: her biggest champion in her moments of genius, and devil's advocate for when genius sometimes gave way to insanity. He has been the one constant, the one unwavering, unchanging factor.

In that moment, sitting alone, she misses him more than ever.

And in that same moment, the burner phone in her hand starts to ring.

Dubious, she eyes it suspiciously before answering.

"Hello?"

There's no mistaking the smooth, warm voice that answers her.

"Hello, Walker."

"Auggie." His name is a pleasantly surprised sigh of relief, and she leans back against the bench with a smile. It's both immediate and involuntary, and she wonders - as she often does - how he manages to do that. "Joan made it sound like you'd both be locked away in polygraph indefinitely." She pauses, a brief flicker of panic, considering the possibility there might be something wrong: "You're OK, right?"

"Yeah, we are. Joan's holding her own for now, but she's not so sure how long she can keep the DCI and his new dog off your trail." Auggie's sarcasm is impossible to miss.

"Calder." She clarifies.

"Calder." Auggie affirms, but with a tone of voice akin to someone having teeth pulled.

"You know what's funny-" Annie stands, briefly scanning her surroundings, "-is I was just going to call you. I swear you're psychic and holding out on me sometimes."

Auggie laughs at that, the first time she's heard him laugh since before Lyon, and it warms her to hear it. She heads back to the hostel, navigating around a group of rambunctious kids playing soccer in the road.

"Maybe it's you." Auggie muses as she disappears through the hostel doors, making her way through the lobby and toward the stairwell.

"If it was me, I think I would've made better decisions then what I've managed to so far, don't you?"

He falls quiet, and the sudden onslaught of uncomfortable silence has her immediately regretting having said anything. She cringes inwardly: their wounds are still too fresh. Crestfallen, she hesitates as she tops the first flight of stairs.

"I'm sorry, Auggie." She finally breathes out, moving down the hallway toward her room. It's an abbreviated version of what she really wants to tell him, but that's not a conversation she wants to have with him now, when he's thousands of miles away.

"I'm sorry too," he's far more subdued than before, "for a lot of things, actually."

Annie stops at her door, struggling to dig the key out of her bag with one hand, but struggling even more to find the words she so desperately wants to say to him.

"Auggie?"

"Yeah?"

"When this is over… When I come home, we need to talk."

She finally finds the key, unlocks the door, and lets it swing open. When she looks up, she nearly drops the phone.

"Actually," Auggie grins from where he sits on the bed, own phone in hand, "I was sorta hoping we could talk now."

* * *

_**A/N: **-_


	6. Chapter 6

**_10 Weeks Earlier_**

_Medellín, Colombia._

"I would've told you I was coming, but it was sorta last minute." Auggie offers an explanation after a few seconds elicit no reaction from where Annie stands, still frozen in disbelief at the door. "I didn't though, because I knew you'd say no."

Annie closes the door and locks it behind her, shoving the phone into her messenger bag before letting it slide off her shoulder and to the floor. She leans against it and observes him from a safe distance, trying - and failing - to ignore the fact that every fiber of her being wants to go to him. He's patient, and waits for her to gain her bearings. She takes a deep breath, and pulls the lose strands of her pony tail back behind her ears.

"Even if I had told you no," she finally manages, "would it have stopped you?"

Auggie shakes his head, grins, and without missing a beat replies: "Not a chance."

"Why?" the single word is actually a million questions rolled into one. She knows better than to start this here, now, but she's never been the patient type. She can't bite it back any longer, and it comes blurting out before she can stop to consider the implications of his answer. Or whether or not she really wants to hear it.

"Why?" Auggie frowns, fiddling with his folded cane on the bedside beside him, but then abandons the nervous habit in lieu of standing up instead. He wrestles with his emotions just like she does, trying to find the common ground between where they are now, and where they were. "You're not mad are you?"

"Why are you _here_?" Her voice, level and sure, hides the fact that she's struggling to hold herself together. "It's not safe, you know it's not."

"I'm here for you, Annie." Auggie's face is pained, and seeing him that way only causes her heart to hurt even more. "I'm here for you, because I'm not going to let you do this by yourself."

He always found her, always came for her, always fought for her when no one else would, and it's almost more than she can take. It feels like more than she deserves.

She tries to breathe, tries to anchor herself, fighting the stinging sensation behind her eyes. She tries to remember when and where they became so broken, so fractured. She watches him stand there, arms open, every single word out of his mouth a steadfast conviction despite the thousands of impossibly fragmented pieces still between them, and it kills her. It kills her, because how is she supposed to give him up when he won't let her go?

"Annie?"

His voice pulls her back into the world, out of her head, and she can't take her eyes off of him.

Her resolve shatters.

Without saying anything, she closes the space between them, moving slowly at first until she's close enough her hand can brush the back of his, and she can see his eyes darken. He reaches for her reflexively, like he has so many times before, and Annie lets him draw her in, his arms snaking around her back. And then she kisses him - slowly at first, and then harder, and when he kisses her back, unrestrained and hungry, she can't help but feel like she's falling apart all over again.

A few breathless and severely distracted seconds later, Annie reluctantly pulls away.

"We really need to work on the whole talking thing." Her hands rest on his chest and her cheeks are flushed. She can feel his heart beat beneath her fingers, and she revels in the familiarity of it.

"We do." Auggie agrees, resting his forehead against hers. "You make that hard to do sometimes, though." As if to make his point, his hands slide slowly down the length of her ribcage as he draws her close again, his fingers moving beneath the fabric of her shirt and resting against the curve of her hips.

Annie shivers, leaning into his touch. "You started it." She argues weakly. He kisses her again, smiling against her mouth and trying not to laugh.

"I thought letting you go would hurt less than losing you." His admission is so sudden she isn't expecting it, and the seriousness of the confession catches her off guard. "I was wrong though," He murmurs into her hair, "about everything, about us… I was wrong, Annie, and I'm sorry."

The sorrow in his words is crippling, and she wishes more than anything that she could take that away from him. Her hands frame his face, pulling him toward her, this time kissing him gently. "I'm sorry too, I hope you know that," she says earnestly when she peers up at him, "and I forgive you."

For the first time since that night he let her walk away, Annie's heart feels whole again. She feels like she can breath without the threat of her walls breaking - without completely losing her mind. They aren't fixed entirely - that would take more time, more talking - but for now this is enough. Unable to resist any longer, driven by want, made greedy by need, Annie pushes Auggie backward. Fueled by his own desire, he responds to her. His lips leave a trail of fire from her mouth, to her her neck, along her collar bone - _lower_. He deftly begins removing her clothes, and she does the same with his. She realizes in that moment how addicted she is to him, how badly she needs him.

She realizes how much that terrifies her.

Words are replaced with reckless kissing, breathless whispers, and together in a tangle of arms and legs they fall into the bed.

* * *

_**A/N: **Be still my beating Walkerson heart. Music: I Still Love You, Josh Jenkins. "Even when I don't want to, I still love you."_


	7. Chapter 7

**_10 Weeks Earlier_**

_Washington D.C._

Joan knows it will only be a matter of time after Auggie leaves the country until his fake passport flashes across the possible-threats list at the desk of every analyst inside the agency, but when she books him on the red eye flight out of Dulles under one of Arthur's old aliases, she prays that it will be just enough hours for him to get the head start he needs.

There are no doubts her position as DCS is - most likely - severely compromised, simply by association. She's left no obvious evidence that she's behind either Annie or Auggie's disappearances, but Calder has eyes everywhere in the building, and (as Arthur so eloquently put it) he's not stupid. So she prepares herself accordingly before walking into Langley the following morning. Best case: Calder has evidence that implicates her, and she ends up severely demoted to the underworld divisions of the CIA, like crateology. Worst case: Calder has evidence that implicates her, and she loses her job and joins the ranks of faux traitors with her husband.

She already knows Calder is waiting to see her, her assistant Olivia calls ahead to warn her.

The elevator ride to the seventh floor is much longer than normal. She convinces herself the nausea is from morning sickness.

A quick detour to the bathroom and she arrives at her office a few minutes later to find Calder loitering in an unworried fashion, just as she suspected he would be. He stands up from the seat he occupies directly across from her desk when she enters the room. Joan closes the door behind her, and for a moment the two of them stand in deafening silence, each sizing the other up.

"Joan." Calder nods, as cordial and polite as ever, but the tension between them is palpable. Joan regards the man icily as she floats past him and moves behind her desk, but instead of sitting she remains standing, arms resting across the back of her chair. She's expressionless except for the undeniable glimmer of viciousness that flickers in her eyes, a trait that she's never been very good at hiding when provoked. That rings especially true now.

"What do you want, Calder?" She doesn't skirt around the obvious with convoluted and contrite formalities. They're both businessmen, for all intents and purposes, and so she cuts straight to the chase.

"You and I both know know why I'm here." Calder replies smoothly, hands in his pockets, eyes narrowed. He's confident, perhaps overly so, and it rubs her the wrong way as his brazen, brash personality tended to do on a regular basis. "I think the real question" - he steps forward, sitting intrusively on the edge of her desk, inspecting her photographs - "should be what do you want, Joan? From where I'm standing it's getting hard to tell who's team you're on."

It's all she can do not to crawl over the desk and strangle him right there. She entertains the thought in her head instead. She half-smiles, though it's really more a silent snarl; a wildcat considering it's prey.

"How fortuitous," Joan snarks, her voice unnervingly level despite her obvious agitation, "you see, from where _I'm_ standing, I could say the same for you."

She doesn't trust Calder, and she hasn't from day one. His presence here at Langley, called up out of his position as Colombian station chief at the word of a senator who's pockets were lined by Henry Wilcox's blood money, is enough for her to warrant assumption that he is on Henry's payroll as well. His presence here - after everything that's happened - is too coincidental, and coincidence is something Joan has never believed in.

"Me?" Calder all but rolls his eyes at her, grabbing a paperclip off the table and spinning it idly between his fingers. "Here's the problem with your theory, Director: _I'm_ not the one who's going to get bagged for aiding and abetting two CIA agents under investigation for possible crimes against the United States." He folds his arms, eyes unwavering as she glares back at him. Obvious distaste for one another aside, he becomes very serious, "You think I'm the bad guy, but believe me when I say I'm the only friend you've got. I'm not entirely sure how we've ended up here - you, Walker, Anderson and I, but this is your chance to tell me the truth. Otherwise in a few hours I'll be on a flight to Colombia on orders from the DCI, and I'm bringing Walker and Anderson back, willingly or not."

Joan blanches. _This_ is something she didn't see coming. Calder's turned the tables by dangling an unexpected lifeline in front of her: it's a play she hasn't predicted. She hesitates, doing the math in her head, and her panic subsides slightly knowing that Auggie would've landed by now. Calder might know where they are, but if they disappear again he'll be hard pressed to find them a second time, regardless of his knowledge of the country . Annie will make sure of that. He underestimates her, but Joan knows better: she's not the same rookie who stumbled into the DPD four years ago.

"What are you getting at?" She asks, vaguely, because now the gray area is getting darker. If Calder works for Henry, it could be a trap, and if he doesn't…

She considers the possibility that perhaps they've been wrong all along.

That the most obvious conclusion has been in front of her the entire time.

"I know you believe Annie is innocent, Joan." Calder stands and tosses the paperclip down, placing his hands flat against the desk and leaning forward. "You told me if I dug to deep, I'd bury myself. The truth is I've already been there once, and I _know_. So if it's true, then let me help you. Let me help _her_. Tell me what's going on so it doesn't bury all of you."

Joan is deathly silent. She closes her eyes, and sighs heavily. When she opens them again, something changes.

The decision is made.

"For the record, I _don't_ trust you." There's no mistaking the venom in her voice or it's intent. "But…"

"But?" Calder hedges.

"But, given the circumstances, I don't have a choice."

It's a risk she'll have to take.

* * *

_Medellín, Colombia._

Late afternoon sunlight drifts through the curtains. Annie considers the amount of effort she would have to exert to get up, take a shower and redress herself, but the idea of lying naked in bed with Auggie is far more appealing. So she decides twenty more minutes of letting him sleep is a win for both of them.

She props herself up on one elbow and watches him, entranced. The steady rise and fall of his breathing is somehow calming, and she methodically traces the tattoo between his shoulder blades with her index finger, committing it to memory. Being here, just like this, is something she would never get tired of. She has to remind herself that it's real. After a while Annie leans over, kissing him chastely on the shoulder before flopping back onto the bed and curling into his side. He shifts, mumbling something indiscernible. His hands sneak around her waist until his arms can encircle her, lazily drawing her to him. She rolls over one more time so that they're facing.

"Hi." Annie says shyly, letting the palm of her hand rest lightly against his cheek.

"Hey." Auggie sounds half asleep, but he smiles. Annie uses both hands to frame his face, and she pulls him closer so she can kiss him.

"Mmm…" Fully awake now, Auggie leans over the top of her, pushing her into the bed and kissing her back harder. His hands drift further and further south - she moans, her fingers curling into his hair. When he draws back from her just moments later, she chases after him hungrily, but he evades her - he kisses her forehead instead. Huffing indignantly, Annie's head falls back onto the pillows, her hair splaying out around her. One of his hands travels back up the length of her body, torturously slow, until his fingers rest at the juncture of her jawline and the smooth plane of her neck. Her pulse races beneath them and Auggie smirks, satisfied.

"Tease." She complains

"I'm just making sure you still want me." He justifies mischievously, kissing her again.

"I'll always want you." Annie assures, enjoying the feel of his skin against hers, and she tries to coax him back to her.

Telling him she wants him isn't as good as showing him, so she does both.

Minutes later Auggie's cellphone rings, and they are unceremoniously interrupted. It vibrates across the surface of the nightstand, and startles them both out of their blissfully unaware parallel universe that consists of only them. Auggie quickly kisses her once, twice, and then forces himself to stop, falling back onto his side of the bed with a groan. Annie recognizes his ringtone for Joan and crawls over him. She stretches to reach for the phone, swiping it off the table before collapsing across his waist.

After a few seconds to settle themselves, she puts the phone on speaker and sets it on the bed.

"Hi, Joan." Annie is slightly breathless, but entirely composed.

_"So, I'm assuming Auggie found you?"_ Joan is mildly sarcastic, but mostly amused.

"Did you doubt me?" Auggie quips, distracting Annie by running his fingers through her hair. She swats him away.

_"Never." _Joan replies warmly, but quickly changes tracks to all business, _"Listen, I have more news."_

Joan seems much more at ease than their previous conversations alluded, and Annie's curiosity is immediately piqued. "What kind of news?" She asks, sitting up and scanning the room for her clothes. She assumes the shower will have to wait.

_"Calder's been read in."_

"What? Why?" Auggie sits up too, almost throwing Annie off balance with the suddenness of the movement. "I thought we _weren't_ trusting him, remember?"

_"He's headed to Colombia as soon as the mission is approved by the DCI,"_ Joan reveals.

_"Mission?" _Annie repeats skeptically, snatching Auggie's shirt off the floor and pulling it over her head.

Auggie snorts indignantly - he's not buying it. "You mean witch hunt, right?"

_"You could call it that. He's supposed to bring you both back, regardless of whether or not you want to come back. My hands were tied, so I played the pieces as best I could. In order to buy you both more time to find Teo, I had to bargain. But… I think we've been wrong, I don't think Calder's working for Henry."_

"So you told him everything?" Annie considers the possibility, but it doesn't set well with her - she's hesitant. "About Jai, and Henry? About Teo?"

_"Everything,"_ Joan repeats. _"He'll be there late tomorrow morning, I'd advise you go ahead an get new burner phones, and I'll send you the protocol so you can rendezvous with him. It was the only arrangement he would agree to in exchange for 48 extra hours of silence. If he was working for Henry, he wouldn't have kept quiet this long. I'm sure of it."_

Auggie's not convinced. "I don't know, Joan…"

"He could be valuable," Annie argues as devils advocate, "Think about it Auggie, he knows the ALC, he knows Colombia… We could use him." Though she has her doubts, Annie rationalizes the situation because they're already running out of time. "One way or another, we'll make it work."

Outnumbered, Auggie resigns himself, though grudgingly. "Ok," he sighs, "we'll make it work. Keep us posted, Joan?"

_"I will," _Joan promises,_ "I might be working on borrowed time, but they haven't kicked me out of the building yet. Look for my email, and stay safe, both of you - please._"

The sentiment in Joan's voice is touching, but unexpected, and it surprises Annie. "We will," she says sincerely, "and Joan?"

_"Yes?"_

"Thank you. For everything."

_"When you come home, I'll expect that thank you in person."_

* * *

_**A/N: **Music: Warm Shadow, Fink.  
_


	8. Chapter 8

**_10 Weeks Earlier_**

_Medellín, Colombia._

Later that night their productivity has practically sky rocketed. Auggie is at least wearing shorts (if nothing else), and Annie has managed to find her way to the shower. He buckles down while she cleans up, pulling out his laptop and headphones, and setting to work on checking Hummingbird, and after few minutes of listening to the feedback he's satisfied with what he's heard.

"He hasn't moved." Auggie calls from where he's set up shop on the meager hotel room desk. It sits along the main wall, across from the bed but near the threshold of the room. Annie sticks her head out of the bathroom door, wearing nothing but a towel, her hair still wet and sticking to her neck. She admires the view, appreciative that Auggie has yet to put on a shirt.

"It's weird…" She drifts off, contemplating as she hangs on the door frame. "It feels predictable. Teo isn't predictable."

Auggie removes his headphones, placing them alongside his laptop and standing. "Nothing about this is predictable." He points out. Using one hand he follows the stretch of wall between him and her, the other is held out in offering - she grabs it and pulls him toward her, weaving her fingers through his.

"It could be a trap." Annie surmises, kissing the back of his hand. "Henry has eyes everywhere, and if the CIA knows we're here, it's safe to assume he does too."

"Maybe," Auggie agrees, "Or Teo is smart, and he's lying low."

"Maybe…"

"Hey," Auggie detects the worry in her voice and he squeezes her hand reassuringly, "We're going to get Teo, and when get Teo, we find Henry's cutout. We're already halfway there."

"_If_ Calder doesn't complicate things." Calder Michaels is a paradox. Despite Joan's vote of confidence, Annie isn't entirely convinced that he's got their best interest at heart, but that doesn't mean she is above using him if the opportunity presents itself. "He could be helpful though, he does have contacts here." She takes both of Auggie's hands in her own and pulls him closer. "Crossing paths with Teo during a meet would be better than waltzing into another ALC tea party. You remember how well that worked last time."

"I try not to think about all the times you've inserted yourself into dangerous situations against better judgement." He mutters, dipping his head to kiss her neck.

"You act like it's something I do on a regular basis." Annie feigns innocence, while not-so-subtly working at removing his shorts.

"I can't imagine why," Auggie twirls a wet strand of her hair around his finger. "You smell good." He adds.

"You don't." Annie laughs, but she doesn't really mean it. Auggie smells like sweat and sex and the last remnants of his cologne, a dangerously intoxicating combination.

"We could fix that." The proposal is a seductive murmur in her ear that burns through the rest of her body.

With a quick twist of his hand the towel falls away from her, and Auggie spins her around, pulling her back into the bathroom with him. She surprises him when she backs him against the countertop, fusing her mouth to his in a violent kiss, her hands in his hair, his on her hips. She only pauses long enough to pull his shorts the rest of the way off, kicking them out of the way when he steps out of them.

"Any suggestions?" Annie asks coyly.

Auggie's smirk is undeniable, and his fingers trail up her ribcage as he considers her question. "Oh, a few."

Minutes later he has her up against the wall in the shower. The hot water scalds both of them, and the tile bites like ice against Annie's back, but it's nothing in comparison to the feel of _him_. Her legs are around his hips, her arms around his neck, and her nails digging into his shoulder blades. They leave angry red marks in their wake, a trail of fire across his skin, but it claiming him alone isn't enough to satisfy her - she wants more. Earlier their coming together had been a slow rebuilding of reconciliation. Now they're both rough, frantic. Annie encourages it, and Auggie doesn't refuse her. Only a week ago they'd almost broke beyond repair, and she doesn't want to think about that now, about how they almost lost each other - lost _this_.

He's her undoing, and yet he completes her. He mends all the shattered, broken pieces she can't fix.

She wants to tell him that she love's him.

She's not brave enough to say it.

* * *

_**A/N: **Music: Pieces, by Andrew Belle. "You and me, got ourselves a problem..."__  
_


	9. Chapter 9

**_10 Weeks Earlier_**

_Medellín, Colombia._

They check in with Joan in the morning, and they confirm Calder's landed before catching a ride on the Metro to the Pablado station, where it will deposit them at the heart of the city. It's hot and bright outside, and Annie watches as the _Rio_ _Medellín_ races by below them outside the Metro window, a sliver of blue-green amongst the other bright colors of the cityscape it winds through.

Auggie sits comfortably beside her the entire ride, content to draw lazy circles on the back of her hand. Everything feels like it's in slow motion, the sleepless nights and endless travel are starting to take their toll. Every now and then she sneaks a glance at him, and the happiness his simply being there creates makes Annie glow. They don't talk, but she prefers the seemingly peaceful silence anyway, because then - at least for a little while - things almost feel normal.

They arrive at the station without complication, and as soon as they step off the metro they're immersed into the bustling energy of _El Pablado_, one of the busiest, most populated communities in the sprawling metropolis of Medellín_. _Auggie at her arm, Annie begins to lead them down the crowded walkway and away from the station. They'll have several blocks to navigate before they reach their destination, the Pergamino Cafe_, _so they take their time. Annie spots a kiosk as they go, and she stops to pick up two new prepaid cellphones, one for her and one for Auggie.

She makes quick work of the protective plastic casing the cellphones come in, handing him the first phone before opening the other for herself. She inspects her phone briefly, shoves it in her bag, and discards of the plastic remains.

"Those things are a pain in the ass." Auggie marvels, impressed, and he explores the surface of the phone with his hands, his cane resting against the crook of his elbow. "How'd you do that so fast?"

She leans close. "Spy magic." Annie says secretively, her voice lowered for effect. She can't keep a straight face though, and ends breaking into a muffled fit of highly un-spy-like snickering.

Auggie shakes his head, mock reprove, but for her efforts she is rewarded with his quintessential signature grin. He sticks the phone in his pocket, and they continue down the crowded street in affable silence.

The Pergamino Cafe comes into view. It's one of Medellin's premiere coffee shops, with a spacious front porch and plentiful seating, the surrounding decor bright and clever. The locals are sprawled across the area now, sipping expresso and resting after a morning of shopping sprees, the occasional tourist thrown in for good measure. A general buzz of conversation and merriment lingers in the air here, and it's refreshing - _lively_. Annie surveys the area thoroughly, and her eyes find their target. She stops and reaches for Auggie's arm, their shoulders brushing, and he pauses beside her.

Calder Michaels sits at a table against the building toward the farthest part of the cafe front, the most remote area possible in such a civilian, traffic heavy place. He's wearing sunglasses, so Annie can't see his eyes, but he spots her - nods in her direction.

"He's here," she hums flatly. Auggie sighs. They both steel themselves.

"After you, dear," he gestures with his cane hand, his anticipation equally dry.

When they reach Calder's table, they each take their respective seats. Auggie folds his cane, but keeps it in hand.

"Just like old times." Calder drawls, removing his sunglasses and setting them on the table beside a half-full glass of water. He regards Annie cooly, and she holds his gaze. "The only thing we're missing is the rum."

"And still no edible arrangements basket for Wyatt Earp." Auggie dead pans. "Maybe the third time's the charm?"

"I prefer Vodka, actually." Annie interjects, pulling her hair over her shoulder and leaning against the table top.

"Very funny, Anderson." Calder picks up his water and languidly takes a sip. Auggie smirks and follows it up with a half-shrug of indifference: the picture of guiltlessness.

"So, how _did_ we end up here?" Calder muses aloud, "You've all worked so hard to keep me out of the loop, and look - now you need my help. It's like you make it your job to do things the hard way. Is that what they're teaching all these washed out, wannabe die-hards at the farm nowadays?"

"Don't flatter yourself," Annie says cooly, "You're just another moving part in a much bigger picture. Joan said she told you everything, so you and I both know this is bigger than just you and me. You wanted trust? Well now you've got it. And for the record," she adds as an after thought, "We never asked for your help."

Calder growls - Annie's pushing the envelope and he's not appreciative in the least. "I've always known this is bigger than me, Walker. I wonder if you have, though."

"Are you going to sit here and patronize me," Annie asks icily, "or are you going to cut the smart-ass-with-a-chip-on-his-shoulder cliche and do your job?"

A waitress walks up at the exact moment, delivering three new glasses of water and simultaneously diffusing the awkward, slightly heated silence with her presence. Auggie busies himself with his glass, not doing a very good job of containing his glee at Annie's repartee. Calder simmers from across the table, eyes narrowed, lips drawn in a thin line of contempt. He and Annie engage in a battle of stares until he leans back against his chair with an exasperated huff- she wins.

"So what's the plan, _boss_?" Calder acquiesces.

Annie smiles sweetly and settles comfortably into her seat.

"The satellite image we recovered off of Seth Newman's hard drive had a photograph of Henry Wilcox and an ALC cutout meeting in the jungle here in Medellin." Annie, much like her predecessor Joan Campbell, quickly shifts into no-nonsense mode now that she has Calder's complete attention. She pulls a folder containing the photograph out of her bag and slides it across the table: "We find Teo Braga, we find the cutout, we bring him in and turn him. The information he can give us against Henry and his involvement with Lexington Global should allow us to tie him back to the missiles."

"Missiles that are still _missing_." Calder clarifies, inspecting the photo. "You really think Wilcox is behind this?"

"Underestimating him will be your first and last mistake, Calder." Auggie cautions.

"The missiles won't be missing any more _if_ we find the cutout." Annie gestures to the picture. "This man" - she points - "is the missing link, and Teo will be able to find him. If we catch him, we're one step closer to ending this. Henry blames the agency for his son's death, and that blame's fallen on all of us. He won't stop until he gets what he wants."

"Revenge?"

"Yes."

Calder eyes both of them skeptically, worrying the rim of his glass with his index finger. "And how do you propose we find Teo Braga?"

"Hummingbird is operational," Auggie chimes, clearly enjoying dropping the bombshell, "so don't worry, wherever Teo goes, I'll find him."

Calder's impressed at that. "You've been holding out on me, Anderson."

"Spy's got to have his secrets." Auggie shrugs.

"So we find the cutout, we find the missiles." Calder raps his fingers on the table top now, warming to the idea. He leans back, folds his hands behind his head. "Is this the part where I give you both my blessing? Send you on a wild goose chase to save the world, while I turn and look the other way?"

"You make it sound so contrived." Annie sighs, "but ideally, yes."

"And you wonder why I don't trust you people." Calder mutters.

"Joan said you promised her 48 hours," Auggie reminds him, "so Calder, are you a man of your word? Or are you dragging us back to the states in cuffs?"

"You'd both be in body bags before doing anything I told you to do." Calder knows that he's on the losing end of the battle. He eyes Annie one more time, almost as if he's debating. "But what am I, if not a man of my word... Take your 48 hours," Calder sighs, "but on one condition."

"Which is?" Annie asks impatiently.

"Simple: keep me in the damn loop this time." Calder snorts, "I'll even do you one better, I can reach out to my contacts here in the city, and my friends inside the embassy at Bogota. There might be some pieces of the puzzle we missed. Henry Wilcox might be good, but trust me," Calder smiles devilishly, "I'm better."

"Just like that?" Auggie seems dubious, as if it's too good to be true.

"Just like that." Calder echoes. "Amazing, isn't it, how far a little honesty can go?"

"I toyed with the idea of using the NOC you created, and dropping in on an ALC meet," Annie voices her thoughts out loud, already considering the possibilities of Calder's offer, "We aren't the only ones looking for the missiles, and if they think I can help them it'll make me worth keeping around. It would give me an in with Teo that won't blow his cover - or mine."

"Dangerous," Calder considers thoughtfully, "but bold. I like it."

Auggie seems to be uncomfortable with the idea - something Annie is well aware of - but he remains quiet. She doesn't dismiss his silence though, and her hand finds his knee, squeezing it fleetingly.

"If we go this route, and you're going to reach out to your contacts, maybe we can get a better idea on ALC movements in the city." Annie suggests. "You said it yourself, there might be something we missed. If there is we need to find it before Henry does."

"Understood." Calder finishes his glass of water and stands, stretching his arms. "I'll be in touch. And just so we're clear, as far as the CIA knows, this conversation never happened."

"What conversation?" Auggie grins, elusive.

"Exactly my point." With a smirk and a nod, Calder dons his sunglasses, throws a few pesos on the table and departs.

Annie watches him walk away, and she waits until he's lost in the crowd on the sidewalk before she turns to Auggie, her expression somewhat baffled.

"That was…"

"Fun?"

"Easier than I thought."

Auggie snorts, and rises, holding out his hand. Annie takes it and pulls herself to her feet.

"Easy? I have a feeling by the time this is over we'll owe him our first-born child." Auggie unfurls his cane. "Now, let's go find a hotel."

"As good as that sounds," she slips her arm through his, tucking herself into his side, "can we get something to eat first? I'm starving. Somewhere quiet though, so we can talk."

* * *

The Aguacate Arbol restaurant is situated next to the _Parque Lineal La Presidenta. _Annie and Auggie order some empanadas to go, and once they have their food in hand they cross the street and head into the park. They settle on a bench off the beaten path of the main foot traffic and eat in silence.

There's a quiet ambiance that hangs over the place, the bright city life a hum on the edge of the periphery. But despite the semblance of serenity the scenery provides, Annie remains apprehensive, troubled. She's been that way since they left the Pergamino after meeting Calder. Auggie has been quiet too, brooding, and his mood is the source of her disquiet.

"You think it's a bad idea."

She finishes off the last bite of the empanada as she talks, but it's distracted, distant. She watches Auggie carefully, trying to gauge his response. He doesn't reply right away, taking longer than necessary to swallow the bite he has in his mouth. She can't tell if he's contemplating or simply stalling - neither of those options necessarily a good thing. She bites her lip, averts her gaze, trying to avert where she knows this is going.

"Auggie…"

"It's not a safe idea." He amends her previous statement.

"It's not the worst idea." She argues.

"You mean there's a worse idea than using yourself as bait?"

Auggie's words are sharp, they kind intended for cutting, and Annie recoils from the blow. She can see his frustration in the lines of his face, the set of his jaw and the tightness of his shoulders. There's regret there, too. She opens her mouth to say something, but falls short. His tormented expression smothers her into silence.

They linger in a painful lull of stubborn wills, but it doesn't last long. Annie leans into him, melts into his side and rests on his shoulder, and he bows his head to press his lips to the top of her own: unspoken offerings of an olive branch.

"We have to finish this Auggie," she says quietly, "someone has to stop him."

"I know."

"Does it scare you?"

"Yeah, it does."

"It scares me too."

Auggie runs his thumb across the flat of her wrist.

"With this job we live and breathe madness everyday." He sighs, heavily, the echo of an equally heavy heart. "So far we've managed to survive the chaos, but…"

"But?"

"As good as we are at this, as good at _you _are at this, no one's invincible - _you're_ not invincible, Annie." He squeezes her hand, "Inevitability isn't something I can protect you from, that's what scares me most."

Annie draws back, and she stares at him. It overwhelms her - Auggie overwhelms her - because in that moment he is so heartbreakingly beautiful that it's agonizing. It's not the first time, but the feeling never lessens, never fades. She reaches out, touches his face, as if to reassure herself that this is real - that he is real. His hand finds hers, and he holds it in place, an anchor.

Proof of what she's already known all along.

He makes her brave enough.

"Auggie?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you, so much."

* * *

_**A/N:** Music: Quien es el Patron, by System Solar._


	10. Chapter 10

**_10 Weeks Earlier_**

_Medellín, Colombia._

Calder is in his element.

It's a clear night, and the Medellin night life is as wild as ever. Parque Lleras is the beating heart of the upscale Pablado community, block after block lined with bars, clubs and restaurants overflowing with partiers. It's a proverbial playground for the young, beautiful and wealthy, everything that composes Medellin's affluent and influential upper crust. Glamor is no stranger here, whether it's the women roaming the street in packs with their high dollar heels, or the men in three piece ensembles courtesy of names like Gucci, Prada, and various others.

One thing is certain, Parque Lleras is never boring.

But Calder's not here for the music or high fashion.

As is his custom before business, he finishes his second beer at one of his favorite hole in the wall bars before hitting the streets. He navigates the throngs of people with ease, enjoying the familiar sounds of the music, Reggaeton, as it bleeds through the air and breathes life into the people around him. Calder fits in all too well with the fashion forward: dark jeans, leather jacket, and - his personal favorite- a pair of Brunello Cucinelli boots that cost more than most peoples monthly income. He does the rugged, dangerous look in style, and he does it well.

Lleras Town, a restaurant favorite amongst locals and tourists alike, over looks the park. He weaves his way past the Saturday night regulars clambering outside on the curb and slips into the restaurant, easily slipping by the hostess struggling to find seats for hungry customers, and heads to the bar where he finds an available seat at the edge of the loud and the raucous company there.

Before long he's caught the attention of the bar tender, a young man with bright blue eyes and dark hair. He finishes flirting with one of the many girls at the bar top before bounding over to Calder with a smile, clapping him on the shoulder and taking his hand.

"Mr. Michaels! We've missed you," the young man turns to his coworker, says something quickly in spanish, and then spins back to face Calder, "Dónde has estado? I was beginning to think I'd never see you again. Are you well?"

"I've been better." Calder grins, leaning on the bar. "Listen Luis, I hate to come on such short notice, but I'm not here for just drinks. I was wondering if we could chat."

Luis leans against the bar as well, mirroring Calder, a knowing smile forming on his face. He raises his eyebrows, teasing. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised." He laughs, and then his coworker - a disgruntled looking older gentleman - taps him on the shoulder and hands him two glasses of dark amber liquid. They exchange a few more words - the older man seems irritated with Calder's presence, but Luis is unfazed. He hands one to Calder.

"Su favorito, Old Parr," Luis explains as Calder examines the whiskey appreciatively. "One drink, and then we'll go for a walk."

"One drink," Calder agrees, "cheers, to Colombia."

"Cheers," Luis grins devilishly.

Together they throw back their glasses.

* * *

"You know I don't like doing this, not anymore."

Luis Briseno blows cigarette smoke in the nighttime air, the ghost-gray rings floating up and disappearing into the darkness. He and Calder lean against a brick wall on the outer edge of the park, away from the buzz and commotion of the party goers and unwanted limelight. In the bar Luis had been animated, lively, but now - alone with Calder - the exhaustion on his face is a lingering shadow. Calder recognizes it all too well. This isn't the same fearless 19 year old he almost killed in the back streets of Medellin three years ago. He looks older - too old. Further proof that this life always takes it's toll.

"You know I wouldn't be asking for information if it wasn't important." Calder crosses his arms, his eyes trailing the barely noticeable stars over head. The city lights drown them out.

Calder's reassurances seem to do little to assuage Luis' mounting anxiety. The young man drops the rest of his cigarette, crushing it into the sidewalk with the heel of his boot. He sighs, and runs a hand over his face.

"Gabby will turn two next week." Luis says suddenly. "When you and I first met, I wouldn't have thought twice about where I would be today. I suppose that's the risk people like us take, but now…"

Calder nods. "It's different."

"I want to be there for my daughter's birthday, Mr. Michaels. For every birthday."

"You don't have to live in the shadow of the ALC forever, we can protect you, Luis. You've been invaluable to me as an assett. I can keep your family safe, but I need your help to keep others safe too."

Luis worries the lighter in his hand, not yet swayed. Colombia is a wild and dangerous place, a place Luis has known his entire life. The need to simply survive has forced his hand many times in the past, to do things most human beings would never do, but his moral compass in the face of atrocities is also what led him to Calder Michael's door. Like a moth to a flame, his curiosity edges past the fear.

Luis sighs, runs his hand through his hair, and lights another cigarette. "What do you need?"

"Two things. One: Recent ALC movements, meets, chatter - anything."

"Easy enough." Luis eyes Calder skeptically, and then reconsiders. "Any specific reason?"

"I need to talk to Teo Braga." Calder's smile is toothy, arrogant, the white of his teeth flashing in the night.

"A fools errand." Luis mutters. "And the second thing?"

Calder pulls a folded up piece of paper from the inside of his jacket - the satellite image of Henry Wilcox and his ALC cutout that Annie had given him earlier that day. He offers it to Luis, who considers the object like one would consider a scorpion posed to strike.

He takes it anyways.

"Do you recognize either of these men?" Calder asks quietly.

Luis holds the paper closely in one hand, cigarette in the other. The dim street lights the only source of visibility. His eyes are locked not on the image of Henry, but the supposed ALC member. His eyes widen. Recognition creeps onto his face first, followed by dread.

"Yes, that's my brother."

* * *

_Washington D.C._

"You should come to bed."

Joan looks up from her home computer to see Arthur standing in the doorway of the office. She glances at the clock over the top of her glasses, realizing that it's just past midnight. Unsurprisingly she is still wide awake, as she has been most nights the past week.

"Come here first," she dictates, waving him in, "I need to show you something."

"What'd you find?" He pads over and pulls the second chair around, settling beside her.

"I'm not sure." Joan removes her glasses, setting them down and rubbing her eyes, trying not to cringe against the brightness of the computer screen. "I've been running in circles, trying to follow Seth's ties back to Solstar, to connect that to Henry, but there are so many questions I don't have answers for, and now that he's dead we may never find those answers. But this is what worries me…" Joan's frustration is apparent, she shakes her head and sighs, gesturing to the current article on the computer in front of her.

"Solstar's executives and investors are meeting in Bogota this week?" Recognition echoes in Arthur's voice. "Do we know why?"

"No, and it's not something I can use agency resources for yet, it would be unwanted attention on Annie and Auggie. The DCI already has eyes on Colombia with Calder pursuing them, this could be an added complication."

"Is Henry going to be there?"

"I'm keeping track of his passport, but that doesn't mean anything. If he wanted to find a way around being followed, he would."

Husband and wife sit in silence for a while, considering the options in front of them.

"Do you think he's moving the missiles?" Arthur asks finally.

"It's a possibility, but with out any viable proof, we're stuck. Annie and Auggie are doing what they can..."

Arthur's concern only deepens. Joan can't help but feel like all the conflict and chaos of the past few weeks has aged him, he looks tired, more so than usual, and it saddens her to see it.

"It feels like a trap." He says, taking her hand in his. "Henry has us right where he wants us: in the dark. We can't be sure of anything."

"No, we can't." Joan agrees, weaving her fingers through Arthur's. "But the sooner Annie get's to Teo, the sooner we stop him."

Neither she or Arthur have ever been the overly sentimental type, and before they were ever together she had sworn to herself that she wouldn't let her emotions dictate her choices. However, her attempts to compartmentalize her life and their relationship over the years have always ended in failure. She's avoided various obstacles over the course of the journey, some instances with less poise and tact than others, but there were some things in life that were unavoidable. Now that motherhood looms ahead of her, she understands some things better than she might have before.

When Arthur told her about Teo, she had been angry, hurt, betrayed. But now she recognizes the conflict and torment on her husbands face; fear for a son he's on the verge of losing entirely. She prays the day never comes where the same fear threatens them over their own child - she'll be damned if it ever does.

"I want him to come home, Joan."

Her heart breaks for him.

She wonders if that's all that will break by the time this is over.

* * *

_**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews guys! More coming asap. xoxo  
_


	11. Chapter 11

**_10 Weeks Earlier_**

_Medellín, Colombia._

Annie can't sleep.

The Art Hotel Medellin is far more comfortable and lavish than their previous hostel, but luxuries aside, too many things are racing through her thoughts for sleep to even be relatively plausible. Her only comfort is Auggie, who sleeps soundly next to her. They've made good use of the room amenities thus far - namely the couch and the bed. There are fleeting moments she can pretend that this insanity they're caught up in is something else, moments where her imagination allows her to escape and envision a time and place where things are different.

A time and place where they're together, but not like this - not fighting a battle they might not win.

She thinks about sitting with him in the park, and how easy it had been to say those three words that had once terrified her. Now, she's never been more sure of something in her life.

She wouldn't be able to do any of this without him.

She carefully tries to extract herself from Auggie's arm where it's wrapped around her waist. She slides out of his hold, and out of bed, grabbing her laptop off the armoire where the TV sits. She returns to her side of the bed seconds later, propping herself up against the headboard. Auggie stirs next to her, and his hand reaches out. His fingers find the bare skin of her thigh just above her knee. It isn't covered by his t-shirt that she's wearing.

"Everything ok?" He asks, blinking, trying to wake up.

"Couldn't sleep." She replies truthfully, wiggling closer so that her legs are as close to his as possible, glad that he had fallen asleep on top of the sheets.

"Me either."

"Liar."

Auggie chuckles softly, sitting up and leaning over to kiss the side of her head just above her temple. Annie closes her eyes, relishing the feeling, memorizing it. They sit in silence together, shoulders brushing, and Annie opens the laptop up and it quickly fires to life. She glances at the digital clock at the top of the computer screen: 2 AM. At that same moment an email alert draws he attention to a new email from Joan. Annie's brow furrows, and Auggie quirks his head.

"What is it?"

"Hold on…" Annie reads through the email quickly, the black lines of text reflected in her eyes with the glow of the computer screen. "Joan says Solstar executives and investors are headed to Bogota."

"Sound suspicious." Auggie says.

"Only slightly." Annie replies sarcastically.

Auggie's burner phone rings, and they both jump. Immediately Annie's stomach flips and ties itself in knots: Calder is the only one with access to their burner phone numbers. Auggie grabs the phone from the nightstand, placing it to his ear, rolling his neck shoulders - tense.

"Yeah?" Auggie pauses. "Yes, we just got her email."

Annie watches Auggie intently, and she can faintly hear Calder's voice on the other end of the line. She reflexively grinds her teeth, and she balls her hands up, her finger nails digging into the palm of her hand. After a several extremely long minutes of exchange - in which Auggie does mostly listening - he hangs up the phone.

"Well?" Annie crosses her legs now, balancing the laptop in her lap, the email from Joan still open on the screen.

"Solstar isn't the only group that has plans to go to Bogota." Auggie replies grimly.

"The ALC?"

"Yes. Calder's contact is on the inside. He's saying his brother is the man in the photograph. It's complicated though, there are individuals in the ALC who are… unhappy with the current situation. Apparently there's unrest amongst their ranks after Teo's stunt in Vienna. They think he's growing disillusioned to the cause."

"Collateral damage."

"Essentially, but until we find Teo, this is all speculation."

"We have to go to Bogota." Annie reasons out loud. "Shit - it all adds up, the Solstar meeting, everything… Henry is baiting them. It has to be a set up, but _why_?"

"It get's worse. Calder says word on the street is that they have the missiles. They're planning another attack, Annie."

"Oh God-" Annie grabs Auggie's shoulder, her other hand flying to her mouth, realization paralyzing her.

"Annie?"

"Auggie, the e_mbassy_ is in Bogota."

* * *

_**A/N:**__ Dun dun dunnnn, the plot thickens._


End file.
